


untangle your wings and fly to the sheltered sky

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (but mostly it's just an excuse to beat up on Loki), (whump with a thin excuse for plot), Brother Feels, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt Loki, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sorry (I'm kind of sorry), Injury, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Whump Without Plot, hopeful speculation about the direction things might go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are fire giants in Asgard. Thor would really like an explanation, but he needs Loki to stop dying first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untangle your wings and fly to the sheltered sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [attackfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackfish/gifts).



> I asked on Tumblr for WWP (whump without plot) prompts to write on my transcontinental flight, and the first one I am doing (yes I am doing more than one) is for [attackfishscales](http://attackfishscales.tumblr.com), who asked for Loki getting revealed post-The Dark World in a situation where he is injured. I proceeded to write this thing, which ended up a lot longer and with a lot more...uh, something? then I figured it would. My fic running away with me, what else is new. 
> 
> Love and thanks to [ameliarating](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com). Here's hoping you enjoy.

“What did you _do,_ ” Thor demanded. Loki laughed, ragged and harsh, propped against the wall and breathing hard.

“Always your first question, isn’t it?”

The smell of sulfur was thick in Thor’s nostrils, mingled nauseatingly with burned flesh and hair. The bodies around them were little more than ash now, but the fact that they were there at all…fire demons did not belong in Asgard’s halls.

As for Loki…the terror that had gone through him seeing his father – what he had believed was his father – battling a pack of the demons was nothing to the anger trying to roar up in him since the disguise had melted away. (A part of Thor was angry, too, that it had to be like this – that he could not simply _rejoice_ that his brother was alive, that he had to be wary and suspicious and wonder if anything on Svartalfheim had been real.)

“It is usually a fair question,” he said. “The more so when there are sons of Muspellheim running amok-”

Loki’s expression tightened, his jaw tensing. “And that must be _my_ fault.”

“It is somebody’s,” Thor said, and if the words were not a direct accusation he was sure it was clear nonetheless. Loki’s face spasmed, several emotions flickering across his features too quickly to catch.

“Since you have already made up your mind,” he said, straightening – only to stop short and fall back with a gasp. Quiet, but audible to Thor’s ear, as the sound of Loki’s pain always had been. Thor took a step toward him, frowning.

“What is it?”

Loki bared his teeth, the expression feral. “Oh, very good. You almost sound concerned.”

“Loki,” Thor said, half warning and half reproach. He tried to remember what he had seen, but like most battle it was a blur. One of the fire-swords flashing toward Loki – but it had been Odin, then, and when Thor had looked back it was Loki, seeming to slither out of the way. Loki’s illusions broke with distraction – or with contact.

Loki, hunched in on himself with his hands curled protectively in, his skin bloodless with a faint sheen of sweat. The strained sound of his breathing might not be from exertion.

“What do you want, Thor,” Loki hissed. “You want to play the hero, once again? Congratulations, you have arrived just in time-”

“Are you wounded?” Thor interrupted. Loki’s eyes skated sideways, confirmation enough. He took a step forward and Loki pressed back against the wall like a hunted animal at bay, but Thor could see him shaking. “Let me-”

“Come no closer,” Loki snapped. He looked half mad. “I will not have-” He broke off, knees buckling. Thor lunged forward and grabbed his arms before Loki could lash out at him.

“Don’t be foolish,” he snapped, and pulled Loki’s hands away so he could see the damage.

The good thing about fire-swords was that their heat cauterized blood vessels, so even severe wounds bled very little. The bad thing – burn wounds took infection worse than most, and whatever sorcery crafted demon-blades only enhanced that tendency. The gash that slashed across Loki’s chest and stomach was already red and inflamed, and by the look of it had cut deep. Loki’s wrists twisted, fighting Thor’s grip, but he did not ease it, sucking a breath through his teeth.

“Loki,” he said lowly. Loki breathed harshly through his teeth.

“Leave it,” he said. Thor shook his head.

“You need a healer.” He released Loki’s left hand, reaching out – though he stopped when Loki flinched before he even made contact.

“And what healer will tend me,” Loki asked harshly. “I am a traitor, do you forget? What is more – a dead traitor.” Loki’s teeth flashed in a mad smile. “I held my own funeral, you know. I debated about whether it would be more in character for the All-Father to publically consign his disgrace to the Void or to pretend it did not exist, but truly I was curious. It is very interesting what people will say when they believe you are dead.”

The image flashed into Thor’s mind of Loki’s skin turning grey, his frantic breathing as his hands fluttered over the hole in his chest. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry-_

Thor gritted his teeth, his grip tightening involuntarily. “Do not be foolish.”

Loki shoved at Thor’s chest, though the effort made him lurch and almost fall. “I can close it. From there-”

“It will get infected,” Thor interrupted. “It likely already is. If your blood goes bad-”

Loki laughed, the sound raucous. “Then what? I will only be the dead man you already believed I was.” The flash of anger Thor felt mingled with fear made him want to shake Loki, but with the way he was breathing, his dilated pupils and the way his gaze did not quite focus – Thor did not think if he let go now that Loki would remain standing, and he did not want to hurt his brother worse.

“I do not want that,” he said instead, forcing his voice to calm. Loki shuddered, his weight slipping further against Thor’s hands. Thor moved, carefully, to try to ease him downward. “Sit. I shall-”

Loki’s grip was surprisingly strong, for all his hands were clammy, fingers shaking ever so slightly. “No. Did you not hear me?”

Thor felt his temper flare again and held onto it because it felt better than the fear lurking underneath. “I _heard,_ but-”

“But you did not listen, as always,” Loki said. His eyes closed briefly and Thor could hear the strain in his breathing. “What will they think, Thor? If anyone should see me, here, the corpses of fire-demons strewn about, the All-Father disappeared – I doubt _healing_ would be what Asgard would offer.” He slumped against Thor’s grip. “Just…give me a moment.”

 _The All-Father disappeared._ That haunted Thor too, in a way he did not want to consider. _What did you do to our father, Loki?_ “A moment for what,” Thor said, frown deepening. “To get worse?” He hated this. Hated this _helplessness._ Loki licked his lips and Thor felt his fingers flex, the peculiar surge that came with Loki gathering his magic. “Wait,” Thor started to object, but they had already moved.

Not to Loki’s rooms, Thor realized, steadying himself quickly. This was Odin’s chamber.

Loki fell heavily against Thor with a faint, pained grunt. Thor caught him automatically, free hand going to the back of his neck and finding it damp and hot. “Brother,” Thor said sharply, and he did not respond, eyelids fluttering. Thor’s stomach clenched. “ _Loki._ ”

“Here,” Loki said, pushing at Thor again. “You can let go now.”

“If I let go you will fall,” Thor pointed out.

“I already did,” Loki said, with an odd laugh, and Thor felt an awful urge to flinch, remembering Loki’s face fading into blackness. “I always am.” His voice sounded strange, and Thor gave his neck a careful squeeze.

“You are not now,” he said, voice rough but, he hoped, not harsh. His anger could wait. His anger would have to wait, until Loki was out of danger. “What was this meant to accomplish? You are still-”

“Dying?” Again, that odd laugh. “Maybe. I am not very good at it. Or perhaps too good at it.”

“I need to fetch a healer,” Thor muttered, mostly to himself. He considered trying to drag Loki over to the couch, but instead simply shifted his grip and lifted Loki into his arms. It was no longer so easy as when he had been a child, though he still felt, to Thor, like an armful of bone and limbs. Had he always been so gaunt?

“No,” Loki objected, but Thor ignored him, depositing him carefully on the couch.

“Close your eyes,” Thor urged. “Rest.”

“ _No,_ ” Loki said, and the urgency and near panic in his voice was enough that Thor stopped. “You cannot. Thor – please. Listen to me, this once.”

 _I listened to you so much more than that,_ Thor thought. _I listened to you too often when I should not have. I listened to you_ die. He held his tongue, though a large part of him decidedly did not want to. “Then what would you have me do,” he demanded.

“There are potions in the All-Father’s private cabinet,” Loki said. He gestured toward the bedroom door, breathing in ragged pants. “Here-” A key fell on the floor by Thor’s boot. He bent down and picked it up, looking from it to Loki, sweating and milk-pale. He made a thin groaning sound.

“Which one,” Thor asked, his throat closing for a moment when Loki’s eyes closed and he fell still.

“Blue-black,” Loki said finally. “On the left. Labeled ‘Alfshorn.’” He paused. “I think.”

 _You think,_ Thor wanted to exclaim, but he bit it back, simply turning and striding for the bedroom. He was not certain how much time there might be before the demon magic had too strong a hold to be shaken loose, and Loki began to burn in earnest.

(It occurred to Thor with a shock that Loki’s Jotun blood might either save him or doom him, in this, and that he did not know which.)

He pushed that disquieting notion away and stepped into Odin’s rooms: terrain he had seldom ventured upon, even as a child and still less as an adult. He stopped short, eyes widening, as his eyes caught on the bed: surrounded by a golden dome of shimmering power, and underneath lay his father. Alive. By the motion of his chest, asleep.

Thor felt a rush of relief as a fear he had not even dared acknowledge evaporated, and then reminded himself that he had an errand and hastened to the cabinet. It was clear which one Loki had meant – large and black and carved with what even Thor recognized as runes of warding and protection. The key fit smoothly into the lock and it opened without difficulty. Within – it looked like the hoard of a lifetime, and there were many vials and potions, all of them meticulously labeled – but only in the mages’ runes, which Thor had never learned.

He squeezed his eyes closed and opened them, looking for a blue-black potion. Too aware of the silence from the other room, he rifled roughly through them, glancing at labels in case any bore any recognizable symbol. At length he found one, the right color, little larger than a thimble and bearing a runic label that _might_ look something like the runes Thor remembered for _Alfheim_ , taught him by Loki on a quiet summer day a long time ago.

Thor glanced once more at Odin, sleeping _(wake, father, wake now)_ and hurried back. Loki’s head was lolled to the side, his eyes closed. Thor knelt by the couch and examined the wound again. Red-orange streaks like tongues of fire fanned out from the ragged edges, and the skin when Thor laid his fingers on it it was hot to the touch. Loki flinched, at least, and his eyes opened.

“Thor,” he said. He held up the vial.

“Is this the right one,” he asked. Loki stared at him, eyes uncomprehending.

“I am very tired,” he said.

“Loki,” Thor said more harshly, leaning toward him and gently jostling his head. “Is this the right potion? The one you asked for?”

“I do not ask for anything from you,” Loki said. He blinked slowly. “At least, not anymore.”

He’d already begun to slip into delirium. Thor had never seen this happen, not personally, but he had heard stories. Delirium and fever as the burning worked its way deep into the flesh, spreading out through the body. Blood turned poisonous and foul. By then the victims were lost. “Will this help you,” Thor said. Loki’s eyes turned blearily away from him.

“You said you would kill me,” Loki mumbled. “Would you still, Thor? Even though I am already dead?” He made a sort of bubbling sound that it took Thor a moment to recognize as a laugh. His hands moved, sluggishly, clawing at the wound, and Thor pulled them away with a harsh intake of breath.

“Do you forget nothing I say,” Thor muttered. He looked at the vial and swore. He had not sworn not to get a healer. He could still. He _should._ Loki feared being locked away, but did he not deserve to be? And there – there Thor could interrogate him at his leisure, Loki would be safe and Thor need not fear him trying to run.

Thor looked at his brother, sweating and shivering. Loki would never speak to him again.

He unstoppered the vial. “Norns help me,” he murmured. He released Loki’s hands and prised open his jaw with a thumb, ignoring Loki’s feeble attempts to push him away. He poured the small amount of liquid (so _little,_ would it be enough) down Loki’s gullet. Loki thrashed, body seizing up where Thor used his weight to hold it down, but he held his head steady with jaw closed until he saw Loki swallow, and then released him.

He saw no change immediately, only Loki gasping, eyes opening a sliver to stare accusingly at Thor.

“Coward,” he said, panted. “You would poison me?”

“ _Poison_ you!” Thor cried. “I am trying to help! In spite of all you have done-”

“There is no help for me,” Loki interrupted. His eyes gleamed, feverish and wild. “We are all going to die. Surtr – I thought I could trick Surtr but he is cleverer than I thought. And even if we win – if you win, I never win – it doesn’t matter, in the end we will still-” He broke off, a ripple seeming to pass through his body. Thor leaned forward, his skin prickling. _Surtr,_ he thought. He knew that name.

“Loki,” he said roughly. Wanted to ask, _what were you trying to do, who are you afraid of, what did you do to Father, how long have you been wearing his face._ “What is it?”

Loki’s teeth flashed. “I should have died,” he said, voice weak and strained. “You should have killed me. Or they should have. Only I think perhaps I cannot. I have done this before. I have burned before.”

How much delirium, Thor needed to know, and how much truth? “You will be well,” he said, trying to sound firm. “You must be, for we have much to discuss.”

Loki’s eyes closed and he breathed out a harsh, low sigh. For a moment Thor felt a surge of panic, but even though his brother went limp he inhaled once again. At his side, his fingers twitched.

Thor prayed it was a sign of the potion doing its work, and not Loki slipping further away.

* * *

Thor occupied the time pacing around his father’s rooms. He found a bed near the back of the living quarters, relatively narrow and small and apparently unrumpled, but it could only be Loki’s. He must have been staying here, while wearing Odin’s face. But not sleeping in the bed, Thor thought. In fact, there was very little of Loki at all. Of course, he needed to remain disguised, but something about that nonetheless left Thor vaguely unquiet.

He went back to look at Odin, as well, but he had not moved. His expression looked peaceful; if he had been forced into sleep it did not show. And if he had not? If Odin had fallen into sleep while Thor was on Midgard, and Loki had simply…but no. To expect that to be the truth was to have too much faith in his brother. Thor was learning how dangerous that was, even if he did not want to.

After an hour, Thor filled a shallow bowl with water, fetched a cloth from the washroom, and began carefully cutting Loki’s clothing away from him. The gash was still ugly, but at least the tongues of fire did not seem to have advanced further. Thor cleaned it as best he could, trying to be gentle, but Loki only stirred once with a faint whimper and did not wake. Thor paused when he cut the last of Loki’s tunic away from his chest with the intention of fetching him fresh clothing.

There was a thick, still purple scar raised just to the left of his sternum, perhaps seven inches long. Thor stared at it-

- _Loki’s body arched as the blade burst out of his chest, and then the creature shoved him back and Loki stumbled and fell and the look on his face, shock and pain, would remain scalded on Thor’s mind forever-_

Part of him, Thor realized, had half thought since seeing Loki alive that it had all been part of Loki’s plan. That he had never been wounded at all, or not wounded badly; that he had seen a chance to slip away and taken it without remorse. He was looking at the proof that some of it, at least, had been real. Looking at the remnant of the kind of wound that might – maybe even _should_ – have killed one of the Aesir.

Thor pulled away. Instead of finding new clothes, he pulled a blanket from Loki’s makeshift bed and draped that over Loki instead. He whimpered, though only quietly, and twisted on the couch, eyes opening.

“Burning,” he said. His lips were cracked, Thor realized. “Doesn’t stop. Thor. Help me.”

Something stabbed painfully into Thor’s gut. “I am here,” he said. “What can I…”

Loki’s head turned from side to side. His eyes skated over Thor, unseeing. “Forgot,” he said. “Thor doesn’t come. I know – I know that now. Please.”

Thor’s own mouth felt dry. “You need water,” he said, hoping that somehow Loki would hear his voice, recognize him. That it would pull him away from whatever delusion he was lost in. He saw motion out of the corner of his eye and looked down to see Loki’s fingers twitching over his wound, like he was trying to get the courage to claw it open. Thor grabbed his hand, quickly, pulling it away. “No,” he said harshly.

“In me. It’s in me, the fire,” Loki said. His eyes seemed to focus weakly on Thor’s, for a brief moment. “They…Thor. Please.” His gaze begged. This didn’t seem to be better, Thor thought with horror. This seemed worse.

“You will hurt yourself,” he said. Loki went limp and his eyes closed with a rasping laugh as though Thor had said something funny. Thor let go carefully and Loki’s hands fell back to his sides, clenching as a shiver ran through him. He found a cup sitting half full on a table and refilled it hastily, manhandling Loki up enough to pour it into his mouth. Loki drank greedily and without argument, though when Thor pulled the cup away he was breathing in harsh gasps and seemed to be shivering harder. Perhaps he needed to fetch a healer. If he’d chosen the wrong potion – or if Loki was wrong-

Loki swallowed audibly, his eyes opening a sliver, fixing slowly. “I tried,” he said, voice plaintive. “I’m trying. To stop it, to…” He broke off in a groan, muscles tightening.

“Hush,” Thor said roughly. “We can speak later,” although later Loki would be more able to dissemble, to weasel his way out of giving Thor any answers at all.

“There is no later,” Loki said, voice rasping. “Later you will want to kill me. Maybe I will – even deserve it.” Loki twisted, his fingers spasming. “Like before-”

 _I have never wanted to kill you,_ Thor wanted to say. Or, _I will not want that,_ but could he make that promise when his father was lying helpless in the other room, and Thor did not know why? And _like before?_ Did Loki mean he had deserved it before or that Thor had wanted to kill him before? He shook himself, trying to clear his head. “We will speak. I promise you.”

“Don’t promise,” Loki said with surprising intensity. “Promises are like lies.”

“Not mine,” Thor said, stung.

“Even yours,” Loki said, and then inhaled a shuddering gasp and let out a small whimper. Thor reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder but Loki flinched at the touch of Thor’s fingers. He felt so _hot._ Like he had said, like there was fire inside. “Nnnh – too much. It’s too much. Please…” His voice was strained.

“Fight it,” Thor said, though he could feel his heart pounding, knew the window of time when he could call a healer was narrowing, if it had not already closed. “Loki, if you would let me summon a healer, they could ease-”

“ _No._ ” Loki shuddered. “I cannot – cannot lose. Everything I’ve…done. They’ll tear it down. Asgard needs to be ready.”

Thor leaned forward, alarm spiking. “What have you done? Asgard needs to be ready for what?”

Loki shuddered again and went still, exhales coming out as little whimpers, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Thor squeezed his eyes closed and resisted the urge to cry out in frustration. He needed to warn someone about Muspellheim, about Odin, about how their king who had been ruling them this past year was not their king at all. He was being foolish. Loki could not argue now, and undoubtedly the healing wing would be best for him.

He checked the wound again. The tendrils of red curling outward from it did not seem to have spread. Or was that wishful thinking?

Loki’s eyes focused, abruptly, and his hand snapped out with surprising quickness, seizing Thor’s wrist. “You have to cut it out of me,” he said. Thor stared, shaking his head.

“Cut what? Loki, I do not understand.” He tried to speak calmly, though his heart was pounding. “Is there some fragment of the blade in the wound?” If Loki died-

(Would he ever be able to believe that Loki was truly dead, now?)

“What?” Loki looked confused. “No. No, not that. The Jotun. You have to cut it out of me.”

Thor’s stomach ached. Thinking of Loki – that way, with blue, ridged skin and red eyes, still made him feel vaguely ill, much as he hated that it was so. And yet to hear Loki speak that way- “No, Loki,” he said, and realized too late the echo of his words when Loki shuddered, eyes closing and making a small whimpering noise. His face turned away and he went still again except for the tremors going through him.

“Leave me,” he said, but his voice sounded small.

Thor moved back and sat down. “Close your eyes,” he said, like a coward. When had he become one to run from a fight, to shy from addressing the giant in the room? ( _Literally_ , his mind provided, something bitter and wry in the thought.) “You need rest.”

“There is no rest,” Loki said. “Not until I am dead. Maybe not even then.” For a moment Thor thought he would laugh again, one of those awful sounds that made the hair on the back of Thor’s neck stand up, but he just sighed, face still turned away, and fell silent. Thor waited for him to speak again, but he said nothing, breathing continuing thin and ragged.

“Loki,” Thor said softly at length, but his brother did not so much as twitch. Thor could see the angle of his collarbone jutting out, far too prominent. Thor tried to push down the surge of concern. Loki might be wounded, but Thor could not forget all that he had done. He would not be Loki’s dupe again.

Loki moaned. His face looked grey and Thor could see his eyes moving rapidly under the lids.

 _You will not need to worry about that if Loki does not survive this,_ a ruthless part of his mind reminded him. He pushed it away with a harsh inhale. Loki would survive. It seemed he always did.

* * *

Thor must have dozed off, because he woke to the sound of Loki choking as he thrashed wildly on the couch, the veins bulging in his neck. Thor leapt to his feet and held Loki’s shoulders down, alarmed by the gurgling, strangled sounds coming from Loki’s throat. “Loki,” he said, but though Loki’s eyes were partly open he could only see white.

Realizing belatedly, Thor rolled Loki to his side. Vomit spilled from his lips and Thor clapped his back, trying to dislodge any he might have inhaled. The choking seemed to ease, though Loki still shook violently under his hand.

“Bad,” Loki mumbled. “Very bad. Can’t. Can’t die yet. Not done.”

“No,” Thor agreed, his voice unexpectedly harsh. “You cannot die, that is true. You owe me – _many_ explanations.” He reached out to feel Loki’s forehead. He still felt – so hot, but Thor could not tell if it was worse, or better, or the same. The potion was magic. Should it not have worked by now? Had Loki just vomited it up?

Loki’s hands lifted and fell back, as though he did not have the strength to raise them. “Worse than I – expected. Per-perhaps there is enough Jotun in me to kill me.” He rasped a laugh, eyes shining. Thor could not tell if it was fever or tears. “Would that not be…fitting? Or perhaps ironic. I can’t remember which.”

“Loki,” Thor said, fear bubbling up his throat, but he did not have the right words. Perhaps there were no right words. “Let me get you some water.”

Loki licked his cracked lips and bobbed his head. Thor stood and refilled the glass, returning and shifting to raise Loki so he could help him drink. He could see Loki drifting, but the moment the water touched his lips Loki clamped them closed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, sounding almost plaintive. Thor frowned.

“You need to drink.”

“Not Thor,” Loki mumbled. “You’re not…I won’t drink it.”

Thor felt as though he was being tugged in three different directions. There was something, some awareness lurking at the corner of his thoughts that he did not want to look at, could not acknowledge. “It is only water,” he said, trying to sound coaxing. “And it is me. You need to drink.”

Loki coughed. “If Thor were here he would be merciful.”

Something in Thor’s heart twanged like a string about to snap. _What do you mean,_ he wanted to growl, but Loki was barely half sensate; it would not be fair. “This is mercy,” he said instead. “I am caring for you, in spite of everything. Attempting to help you. What more-”

Loki made an awful choking, laughing sound. “Not that kind of mercy.”

Thor understood, though he did not want to. It was not the first time Loki had suggested as much, after all. His temper snapped. “What have I ever done that would give you cause to think I would kill you? What makes you think, Loki, that that has _ever_ been the desire of my heart, when at every turn I have striven to mend things between us, to _help_ you, even when you throw it back in my face, even unto-” He cut himself off. He had been about to say _pretending to die_ but he had seen the scar on Loki’s chest.

Loki should not have survived. And yet. And _yet._

Loki’s head swayed from side to side. He seemed confused. “Lies,” he said. “Sweet – sweet lies. He wants to appear – generous. Must be seen to make an effort. But there is – there is no place for me. Not there. But I have – I have shown them, I have ruled and ruled well even if no one knew it was me…” He trailed off, and Thor saw the pain go through him in a ripple.

“Be quiet,” Thor said. “Lie still. And drink the water.”

Loki went limp in seeming surrender. He swallowed the water, only a little dribbling down his chin. Then he closed his eyes.

“That’s not true,” he mumbled, before Thor could speak. “I did not rule well. I thought I could save…it does not matter. I should never have come here. Should have stayed on Svartalfheim.”

“You should have come to _me,_ ” Thor said. Loki’s lips twitched.

“How could I,” he said softly. He let out a quiet gasp, hands clenching into fists. “I died well. It would have been – have been cruel to ruin that. I gave you – the best gift I could think of.”

There was so much wrong that Thor did not know how to address. He clung to the one thing he could. “What gift?” He asked, though a sinking part of him already knew.

“A royal pardon and permission to stay on Midgard,” Loki said, his smile almost giddy. “Did you not…think that the Allfather seemed too lenient?”

Thor had not thought about it. He had been so relieved that it had not come to exile, or worse, that he had accepted without question. He stared at Loki, whose smile widened, though for all its width there was something strangely soft about it. “I thought I owed you that much,” his brother murmured.

Thor felt his expression spasm. Loki’s eyes fell closed as he sucked in a breath. Thor could see him fading again.

“I do not want you dead,” he said, because he needed to say it. “Loki, if you believe nothing else, believe that.”

“You should,” Loki said. He looked for a moment like he might vomit again, but did not.

“I have seldom done as I should, as you yourself used to tell me,” Thor said, something rough in his voice. Something faint, almost like a smile, crossed Loki’s face.

“See, you say things like that,” he said, voice blurring, “and I almost believe you are real.”

A deep seated ache started in Thor’s chest. “I _am_ real,” he said.

“That is just what a hallucination would say,” Loki said. He sounded so _calm,_ eerily serene despite the harsh tone of his breathing.

There was nothing Thor could _say._ A wave of helplessness crashed over him. One of Loki’s hands was picking at the crude work Thor had made at bandaging his wound, but before Thor could reach to stop him it fell away. His eyes glazed over and Thor could see him losing his hold on consciousness. Without thinking he took Loki’s hand and grasped it as firmly as he dared.

“Fight this,” he said, hoping his voice sounded more commanding than desperate. “I command you to live. I will not allow-” His voice broke off.

A strange smile passed across Loki’s face. “Ah, Thor,” he exhaled. Violent shivers shook his whole body. “Ah. Thor.” His eyes closed, and for a moment Thor’s breath caught, but then Loki stirred. “The Allfather will…wake soon. I expect within the week. If I…if you are real. You must hold the realm until then. We are not safe. None of us are safe.”

“Loki-” Thor cut off. He had so many questions, but now was not the time to ask them. “I will protect and defend Asgard, as I swore.”

Loki’s head bobbed in a small, weak nod. His breathing sounded shallower, and his skin looked nearly translucent. He could fetch a healer, but in his heart Thor knew it was probably already too late. His brother was silent again, and Thor moved closer so he could hold Loki’s hand on his knees.

“Seems fitting,” Loki mumbled. “To…burn. Began life on ice. End it in fire. How poetic.”

Thor swallowed. There were too many things to say and he did not know which to choose. The angry, frustrated feeling of uselessness swelled. “That potion-”

“Never certain…ah, Norns.” Loki gasped several times. “Frigga…”

Thor’s heart was in his throat. “You see her?”

“No,” Loki said. “Just…wish she was here.”

“Me, too,” Thor said. His voice sounded thick and his eyes burned but he kept them open, unwilling to look away. Loki’s eyes glazed over and closed and for a breathless moment Thor thought it was over, but his chest still rose and fell with strained, shallow breaths.

Only a matter of time, Thor thought grimly.

He bowed his head, waiting.

* * *

But against all odds, Loki continued to breathe. His heart continued to beat. Nearly an hour later, he gasped an inhale and then seemed to relax, and when Thor reached out to touch his forehead Loki seemed cooler and there was fresh damp sweat under his hand. Ten minutes after that, Loki’s breathing seemed easier, the shallow panting smoothing into something deeper and slower.

 _A miracle,_ Thor thought, almost dizzy. Still, he waited until he was certain, until he checked the wound and saw that the red tendrils of infection had faded and while the skin of Loki’s stomach around the bandaging still felt overwarm it was no longer so hot it seemed like to burn Thor’s hand. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to release Loki’s hand and move away, slow and stiff as though he had just fought a great battle. He filled himself a glass of water twice, gulping it down, keeping one eye on Loki, still quiescent and pale.

Likely the fire demons’ remains had been found by now. Asgard would be looking for her leader, in need of reassurance. Thor could go and tell them…

Tell them what? That their Allfather slept and the one they had been following was Loki? That would only add panic and confusion. Thor grimaced and looked at Loki again, who was stirring with a soft noise. He paced over just as one of Loki’s eyes cracked open.

“Thor,” he rasped. He sounded faintly surprised.

 _What were you expecting,_ Thor almost wanted to ask, but perhaps he did not want to know. “Yes,” he said simply.

He could see Loki’s gaze turn inward, performing an inventory of himself. “So it worked?” That seemed to surprise him as well. Thor held in the urge to scowl.

“Did it?” He asked neutrally. Loki rasped a laugh.

“I am not dead. Therefore…” His eyes caught on the glass in Thor’s hand and though it was empty there was transparent desire in his eyes. Thor filled it once again and this time handed it to Loki, though his hands shook as he took it so water spilled on the couch. When it was empty, he set it carefully on the ground and let his head fall back, eyes closing. “So.” Thor waited, and Loki licked his lips. “So. What now?”

 _What do you think happens now,_ Thor wanted to ask. The panic was receding and the anger coming back in its place, but it was twinned with relief as well. Loki had been dead, but he was not. Thor’s heart, foolish though it might be, could not help but be glad. He kept his face impassive.

“Why are there fire demons in Asgard?”

Loki’s gaze slid away from his, and for a moment with a surge of anger Thor thought he was going to lie: _I have no idea._ But Loki swallowed and said, “I made a bargain. With Surtr. I thought…it does not matter what I thought.”

Loki had mentioned that name before. Thor knew where he remembered it from, now. “Surtr is a myth of the Eldjotnar. The great fire giant who will come to burn the world-”

“Is rather less than mythical.” Loki’s expression spasmed, his eyes closing again. Thor turned the pieces over in his mind. Loki’s confused words about some great danger, something coming. Was he referring to Surtr, if that was in fact a real being? The Infinity Stones, and the things Loki had said in his delirium.

“Why did you approach him in the first place,” Thor asked slowly. Loki said nothing, and Thor narrowed his eyes. “Loki.” _None of us are safe,_ he had said. Loki had come to Midgard with one Infinity Stone, seeking another. But who had given Loki the Mind Stone? ( _Who controls the would-be king?_ He had asked, and Loki had not answered, and he hadn’t pressed further because there was too much happening, and later because he was too angry.)

“It seemed like the best option at the time,” Loki said, finally, and then laughed, only to break off in a hiss at the pull on his stomach muscles. “You asked what I did. I tried to save Asgard. I may have simply damned her to a different death.” His lips curved, wry and bitter, so bitter. “I should have known better than to try.”

Thor leaned forward. Reached for Loki and grasped his shoulder. “What is coming, Loki,” he said. “What are you so afraid of?”

Loki’s eyes opened just a sliver, but it was enough that Thor could read the fear and pain in them. “You cannot stop it.”

Thor tightened his grip. He could feel the expression on his face and hoped Loki could read it too. _Surrender is not in my nature._ “I can try.”

 


End file.
